


The crimes they commit

by Subtle_Shenanigans



Category: Original Work, squirmles - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Dangerous wild animals, Dark Humor, Do not repost, Drabble, Gen, Horror, Humor, Injury, Meme, Memes, Spoof, Worms, have fun, im a writer that’s my art, ishpost, look I wrote a Duolingo horror fic, look man I have insomnia and weird ideas, no beta we die like men, pseudo horror ?, what crimes will he commit?, worm on a string - Freeform, you can’t expect better of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22984849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans
Summary: I have no idea except that I’ve been bored out of my skull and having writers block, so I got this itch for something ridiculous. Gotta be silly once in a while.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The crimes they commit

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea except that I’ve been bored out of my skull and having writers block, so I got this itch for something ridiculous. Gotta be silly once in a while.

* * *

Look you and I both know how this will go over.

And quite frankly, there’s not much else to say on the matter.

* * *

* * *

  
Running, is the first thing they remember. Running, flames stark against a night-silhouetted wood, and the stinging cuts.

That’s the first thing their mind goes to, that night.

Yellow. Arson. Red. Running.

* * *

Hedge Asdon; average student in college, and sculptor in the making. They live in an older house, currently by themself as their great uncle is on vacation. It’s a nice house, perhaps larger than what they are accustomed, but near enough to the college that they don’t have to travel far. 

Though the short set of woods between them and the road to town was disconcerting, even if it was barely a ten minute walk.

Anyways. Kid (yes, they’re barely 19, leave them alone) in their great uncle's house. Alone. Some woods. Not the best set up - unless you intended to be in some sort of horror plot.

Or maybe a romance film? But Hedge wasn’t really much of a romantic.

The night of the incident actually begun earlier the previous day.

They had gotten up, and showered, towel drying their short, curly hair. It was pale, strawberry, and though it gave them problems they didn’t hate it. They adjusted their round glasses as they finished getting ready. Gather their books together, grab their laptop, making sure everything was good. They didn't want to come back upstairs unless necessary.

It was Friday, so they only had two classes. One at ten am and another at three pm. Usually they spent the time in-between working on essays and projects so that their weekend could be free to, well, chill out. Maybe shop if they needed.

It was eerie, being alone in the house. Uncle Ashton Asdon had gone 'travelling for work' (really, it was a paid vacation - Hedge had no idea what their uncle did for work, nor did they want to know.) The stairs creaked as they made their way down, the walls groaning as the sun warmed and loosened the wood (or drywall. Whatever the walls were made of.) The house was older, although refurnished. If you dug into the wall paper and peeled back, it would be worn, faded yellow, with the scent of dust.

So the stairs creaked and the house groaned - but light was also streaming in through the windows, and by time they were downstairs, the sitting room was warm through the gauzy cream curtains. They glanced at the grandfather clock by the window. Nine fifteen. Good, they had enough time to grab breakfast.

The kitchen was through an offshoot of a hallway, and was far too big. Not just for one person, but in general. It made Hedge want to shrink down and hide. But they needed to grab some food so with a quick look through pantry number two (of three), they grabbed a pack of pop-tarts and some protein bars for in-between class, slamming the door behind them and stepped right back out.

They paused mid-step, confused. There was something. . . off. 

After a moment, they continued on. Nothing to worry about they were sure.

Even if they didn't realize they never heard the pantry door close.

* * *

"Ugh, I hate chem," Hedge groaned, leaning against the door and consequently shoving it shut behind them.

The house greeted them with muted silence, as usual. Evening light streaming through the window, a soft faded orange haze in the sitting room. The grandfather tocked steadily.

They sighed, slumping. Another night of staying up, studying, for a test they probably wouldn’t pass, as well as a weekend robbed. And they still had to make dinner, as well.

“Food first, or start on studying?”

The sitting room - or main room - was inviting, gold-cast as it was. They could also light the fire place as it grew darker.

Then their stomach cramped up with a twisting growl.

“Food it is.” They dropped their backpack in the armchair, and made their way to the kitchen.

Since it was on the other side, facing away from the setting sun, it was dim enough that Hedge had to flip the light switch. They almost wished they hadn’t.

Across the floor was rice, spilt and scattered. The bag had been partially dragged from the pantry, the edge of the plastic shredded.

They covered their face and tried not to scream.

It had to be the rats; one must have gotten in again. Hedge wasn’t afraid of rats, nor did they hate them (they had grown up with pet domestic ones), but they did find the wild breed annoying, _especially_ when they pulled crap like this.

Now they had to _clean_ as well as cook and study. Great. Just fantastic.

After hunting down the elusive broom and dustpan, they managed to get to work. They grumbled, wishing Tinder hadn't died last year. That cat had been great at keeping the rats away (and the squirrels, the birds, the lizards. . . it was hard to keep any wildlife around, but at least she had kept the rats out.) Uncle Ashton had been heart-broken, so they had yet to get another cat.

Finally, dumping the last of it away, they were able to get dinner. It was quick work to get out a bag of frozen ravioli and cook it over the stove.

Hedge sighed, stirring the ravioli. "I guess I'll just study section one tonight. I can always do the rest tommarrow. And dust," they snorted, glancing towards the now-dark hallway they knew lead to the main room. Should they leave their backpack down after, or bring it up? 

They took the food off of the stove, quickly cleaning the pan before eating. They should probably leave it down after; it'd be motivation in the morning. Probably?

Man, they were tired.

* * *

The next day wasn't much of anything; damn rats had gotten into the pantry again, of course. This time it was beans and shredded wheat, so no great loss. But still annoying. 

After a quick breakfast of toast and an apricot, they got started on dusting. It was mostly the grandfather clock, and anything else that would wear with disuse and dust. It'd probably be a mere fifteen minute job if they didn't have to hike up and down the stairs, racing back and forth. . . 

So fifteen became half an hour (give or take five minutes). They assessed their groceries after, and determined that they were good until next weekend. They debated working on their homework, but there was one more main chore to get out of the way for the day. 

The stairs creaked as they took their time to get up; they really should have done this when they had come up to dust earlier. "Guess you really do lose brain cells at college."

They sighed dramatically upon entering. Hedge _hated_ scrubbing the shower. They knew it wouldn't really be that bad, but they didn’t want another mildew incident. Or broken fingers. (Who knew mildew was so slippery?)

The weird thing was, the bathroom floor was still all wet. They hadn’t showered that morning, either - only yesterday. Had they closed the door too soon, and it didn’t dry?   
  
They threw a towel down, grunting as cold seeped through. Gross.

Nothing else seemed too bad, so they decided to just do the shower next.

"Ugh," Hedge groaned, scrubbing the tile. "Geez, did I shed or something? So much hair." They stuck their tongue out at it.

Weird thing was, it was awfully red. More so than their's normally was. 

Then again, the lighting in here was weird, and the cleaner was colored. Maybe it discolored it?

"Either way, all done," they muttered proudly as they stood up, reaching to turn the showerhead on and rinse it all down the drain.

"Great! Now I can. . . do. . . homework. . ." They glanced around, pursing their lips, then glancing at their phone.

"Or, early lunch sounds nice."

* * *

"Ugh," they stretched, grunting as their spine popped, "I really, really hate chem."

It had been hours since they started; after lunch they may or may not have gotten distracted by a deer outside. Hedge tried to sneak out and follow it, curious. Maybe they could base their next project off of a deer?

Then after the deer, they remembered a phone call they needed to make; and then, as their phone was already in hand, they got lost on social media for awhile, then they had to make dinner, and hey, they should probably cook that steak. . .

Anyways, Chem study started _way_ late, and even then it took, what, two hours? It was a hard subject, and Hedge really struggled with it.

So now, night had fallen, and they were tired once more.

“I could sleep here,” they mumbled, as they slid half-way out of the chair. “Who would know?”

A minute passed. Two. Three.

“ _Ughhhhhhhhhh_.”

They stood up, dragging themself to the stairs.

While dark with no window to light the stair case, they knew it well enough by now. They didn’t know the number of steps, not in a numerical sense, but they knew the length of time it took. They knew the hall, and the direct diagonal to their room. They knew the noise they heard was the soft brush of fur of a cat in the hall, like Tinder-

They stopped dead.

They hadn’t gotten another cat since Tinder. Had- had a different one gotten in? Was it a raccoon? A possum?

Then, in the dark, they saw it.

It - It wasn’t a cat.   
  
It rose, muscles coiling and bunching like a snake’s, easy to see despite the layer of fur. Its eyes were round, blank like an animal’s, but entirely too human with the white sclera - they hadn’t even seen anything like it.

It stared them down, deep, deep purple-red in the night-darkness - Hedge was sure it would have growled, mouth splitting to reveal teeth reaching far back -

Except that its mouth was trapped shut with wire, digging deep and still drawing blood. Some of the string fell past its muzzle(?), catching faint light from somewhere.

Hedge saw the muscles ripple.

And on instinct, threw themselves to the side as it rushed.

There was no screech, no growl; but there was a deep, sibilant thrum they felt more than heard. A hiss that shook their bones.

It bunched, trying to maneuver despite its bulk.

Hedge ran.

The sound of brushing fur rushed behind them, and they hurtled down the stairs, in hopes of out-running it. The blood pounded in their ears.

Then, they tripped.

Hedge wasn’t sure if they screamed or not; all they knew was lacing pain in their ankle, and the dull ache as they rolled down the stairs.

It reared above them, far too close, and they could see the wire caught tight on their ankle. They tried scooting back, pulling against it, gritting their teeth as it cut deep.

The creature yanked them back.

So they kicked it in the face.

They managed to yank their trapped ankle out, scrambling to get away as a guttural whine sounded. They had probably managed to stun it more than anything.

The angle Hedge fell at cut them off from the front door, as the worm-snake-thing was coiled near the main room. So they darted to the kitchen instead, ignoring the slider (there was no time to undo the latch and sneak out), hoping to make it to the back and slipping out the back door.

The grandfather clock boomed, chiming.

Then there was a groan and splintering wood before it could give the hour.

They slid when they rounded into the kitchen, the floor covered in more debris - was this what had gotten into the rice before? The beans? They steadied themselves on the counter, quickly pulling the drawer open and swiping a knife.

It probably wouldn’t do much, but it made them feel safer.

They made their way slowly - how well did it see in the dark? Should they have risked turning on the light? - heart hammering as they heard the soft brush of fur that reminded them of Tinder.

It was in the kitchen.

How had they missed the heaviness behind the sound? As it slithered in, brushing past the debris. Hedge gripped the knife tighter and kept backing up, eyes straining for the moving shadow.

_Dff_.

With mounting horror they looked up, up to catch sight of murky yellow.

There was a second one.

And they had just backed into it.

It smelled of damp fur.

_This_ one had nothing binding its mouth, which split straight down the sides to reveal teeth barely glowing in the dim. Its tongue curled out, long, similar to a hummingbird’s; that thrum ran through them again.

They threw their hands up as it struck, and it screeched as the knife clattered against teeth, slicing the top of its mouth. Hedge ignored the blood that dropped down on them, instead foregoing any silence as they raced around it.

The red one could be heard, picking up speed, the yellow crying out.   


_At least the yellow one was smaller, but maybe it’s a baby?_ Hedge huffed and puffed towards the other hallway, hoping to reach the back door before they caught up. _Oh god, what if there’s a whole nest???_

Before they made it, the red one was before them, having curved around. Hedge skidded to a halt, falling to the floor before it.   
  
There was a sound - was that? -

Suddenly, the kitchen was lit.

The yellow one had turned on the stove, and, Hedge wasn’t sure what it had done, but lines of fire raced across the floor. The red one’s string glistened, they noticed, as it flicked it away from the fire.

Had they spilt _cooking oil_ across the floor?

Hedge gripped the knife tightly, as the yellow one barred down on them. Their eyes darted about wildly.   
  
_Only one thing for it._

They got to their feet, twisting towards the red on and stabbing as they slid again. It bellowed(?), loudly, and the yellow gave that inner screech, rushing them.

Hedge rolled out of the way and saw yellow crash into red; they rushed to get up, dropping down as it rushed them once more-

And it crashes into the slider door, glass breaking around them as the fire caught the walls.

After that, Hedge didn’t look back, didn’t worry, they just ran and ran and ran.

* * *

Unfortunately, the house had caught fire, and by time fire fighters arrived, the place was pretty damaged.

Hedge gripped their phone, hands shaking. Their uncle wouldn’t be able to make it back for another week. And-

And the police didn’t believe them of course. Giant fluffy worms? With plastic-y eyes and mouths full of teeth? One of which somehow started a fire?

There was talk of whether they should get a specialist to speak to them. Or, something else.

One thought Hedge did it, probably by accident, but blaming it on a fairy-tale. Most believed someone else probably started the fire, that Hedge had been woken up from vivid dreams.

One. . .one officer looked at them oddly, intently. Immediately he had left to make some sort of call.

Either way, they couldn’t explain their wounds or the odd blood on the knife. The police didn’t try.

They were stuck here, for now.

  
  
By time a hour, maybe two, had passed, Hedge jolted from restless sleep. It was the odd officer from before, and some stranger. A lady.

“Hey kid, mind if my friend talks to you for a bit?”

Hedge shrugged. And getting up, followed.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this ends sorta abruptly but eh. It was more experimental than some of my other stuff.
> 
> Yes the lady in the end is a reference to the person who speaks to Y/N in S O O N, my Duolingo fic.
> 
> Also, courtesy of my sister, the whole thing with the fur in the shower is to imply that they grew themselves with water, like those pills that turn into animals. That's how they're big.
> 
> ********* 
> 
> Just wanted to add this amidst my editing: With the Coronavirus scare I would like to confirm that my family and I are all right.
> 
> I hope you all stay safe as well; remember to wash your hands regularly, and if you get sick, plenty of fluids and rest. If your symptoms become worse or severe, go to the doctors, the ER, whatever is needed. Stay safe and take care of yourselves ^u^.


End file.
